


The Trials of an Unpaid Receptionist

by lebedev



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: (not by dante dw), Baking, Combat, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Slow-ish burn, Stalking, Teasing, Trish being the seductress she is, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, attempted possession, tags and rating subject to change as story goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-01-31 14:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lebedev/pseuds/lebedev
Summary: Things aren't all bad, working at the Devil May Cry shop. You get a bed to sleep on, free meals, and a pretty nice roommate. Things aren't all bad.But there are many, many bad things.At the end a long, trying job, Dante accidentally leaves some loose ends. And now, you have someone, or somethingeyeing you.





	1. Setting the Scene

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so brave for working on these instead of studying for my finals in a week and half

All things considered, your job was fairly simple. Yes, Devil May Cry’s employees had a penchant for danger, but they were the _muscle_. You, on the other hand, had quite possibly the most important job there: the ever-working, underappreciated receptionist.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you twirled the landline wire through your fingers as you took yet another late night call for a would-be customer.

“Devil May Cry,” you spoke into the phone, trying hard to keep the boredom out of your voice, “how can I help you?”

“How can _you_ help me?” responded a familiar voice. Ah, _there_ he was. While it was a blessing Dante wasn’t there in person to see how hard you rolled your eyes, it was truly a relief to hear his voice. “I dunno, babe, I can think of more than a few things.”

“Sir, I think you have the wrong number,” you replied humorlessly, though a smile quirked on your lips. Leaning back in your chair, you continue to twirl the wire between your fingers. He sounded tired. It wasn’t too surprising, considering he was at the tail-end of a job. Still, he sounded outright exhausted, not a common occurrence for the cambion. “...Dante, need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, nah, I’m okay,” he said. Then paused. “But I think this phone booth is spinning.”

“Dante…”

“Kidding! Lighten up, babe, it’s only been—” You hear him interrupt himself, as if he’s counting briefly on his fingers. After a low whistle, he continued, “Hell, has it really been two weeks? Sorry. Guess I owe you a raise.”

You snorted. Funny. As if you got paid.

Taking your bottom lip under your teeth, you weather the soft skin for a bit. “Are you sure? I don’t mind driving out to get you. You sound pretty awful.”

“You sure know how to make a boy feel special.”

“ _Dante_.”

“I just love hearing you say my name, hot stuff.”

“Okay,” you huff, “I’m hanging up now.” Despite your words, you couldn’t keep the laughter out of your voice, and you could nearly hear him smiling on the other end. As much as he gave you a hard time, but you knew deep down that he was just as happy to hear you over the phone as you were to hear him. After a beat of comfortable silence, you hum. “How long should I wait for you to get back?”

“Dunno. Let’s say another hour, tops.”

“Alright. Don’t stand me up, or I’ll be really pissed.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

* * *

It took Dante another three hours to find his way home. When you finally hear the telltale sound of a jangling doorknob, it’s one in the morning. Before he can fumble with his keys, you’re at the door opening it for him. For a second he looks surprised, hand still raised to where the lock would be.

“I didn’t realize you’d still be awake,” he says, his words slightly slurred. You can’t tell if he went to get a drink after the job, or if it just was really that strenuous, but in this moment it didn’t matter. Sighing, you put one of his arms around your shoulder as you helped him inside.

“You’re lucky you got back when you did.”

“Yeah? Someone ask for me?”

You smiled, helping him lug his weight to his ratted, old couch. “Nah, your pizza almost got cold.”

Never before have you seen a grown man fall _quite_ so fast into a seat. Before you can blink, his weight is off you, and sprawled across the red fabric. Letting out a loud, slow sigh, Dante begins to detach all the weapons from his body. Though tired, he sends you a disarming grin, his thank you for providing the food. You really were a lifesaver. He nearly moans into his meal as he finally takes a bite. It's just barely still warm, but to him, it's divine. How many days had it been since he had good food?

“You’ve got no idea how tough this one was, babe.”

Crossing your arms, you lean your hip onto the wall. “No, I really don’t.” Feeling playful, you tease, “Because someone forgot to call me like he said he would.”

“ _Really_? Who did that? He sounds like an ass.”

“He is. You wouldn’t like him.”

“You should dump him,” Dante replies, somehow, through a mouthful of lukewarm pizza.

His antics earn him a laugh, though another roll of your eyes along with it. After pushing yourself off your perch, you push gently on his shoulder, making him make space for you on the couch. It creaks loudly as you sit, and briefly you wonder when the damn thing is going to fall apart entirely.

Dante continued to eat- rather impressively -the entirety of the pizza by himself. And you got him an extra large, this time, too! Extra! But you didn’t mind, not as you sighed happily and leaned your cheek onto his shoulder. He stilled his motions for a moment at the feeling, but quickly continued, deciding not to say anything of it. There was a time and place for teasing, but he felt as though he should let this one slide. Just this once.

Several moments pass, and the two of you stay in your seats. By now, the pizza box is empty, and the only thing keeping either of you awake is societal niceties. Now, Dante’s not one to deny a comfortable silence. No, who was he kidding? He definitely was the kind to break a silence. Opening his mouth, he takes in a breath to say something…

Only to be interrupted by you, snoring. The hours you spent up worrying for him to get home had its tax on you, and you couldn’t help but fall asleep on the gentle warmth that Dante provided. He laughs at himself under his breath, incredulous that he hadn’t noticed that you’d been asleep this whole damn time.

Taking a look around the shop, he felt a sense of pride encapsulate him again. It’d really found its own in the last few years, with you and Lady helping him out. Sure, it was still hard doing jobs alone. Hell, he barely got this last one done. Still, business was trickling in, and he was able to pay rent. His gaze trailed to your desk, and he winced as he saw the amount of paperwork on it. You really did help out around here.

The amount of work you did made him feel a little guilty, considering he didn't pay you. But, he reasoned, it wasn’t as if he didn’t _not_ pay you. After all, you did live here with him. And if that wasn’t payment, he didn’t know what was. Rolling his neck, he let out a relieved breath as he heard a satisfying ‘pop’ from his tired joints.

“C’mon, babe, let’s get to bed,” he murmurs, more for himself than to you. Gently cradling you in his arms, he grunts as he stands with you in them. Not because he finds you heavy, no. To him, you weigh about as much as a load of laundry. But because he’s just _so goddamn sore_. He didn’t even have it in him to tell you how he may have messed up on that job when he came home, the sight of your happy face when you saw him at the door was too precious.

Effortlessly moving up the stairs, he makes his way to your bedroom, placing you under your sheets. You must have been as tired as he feels, for somehow you haven’t woken up. As he stands back up, watching you curl on your side, for a moment he feels as though he should kiss you. He wants to lean down, brush your hair away from your forehead, and press his lips to your skin, murmuring a goodnight. But as soon as the desire arises, he turns to leave. That’s not the kind of relationship the two of you had. That’s not the kind of relationship you deserved.

Shaking his head, he rid himself of those stupid thoughts as he closed your door.

* * *

_It was dark._

_It was dark, and muted, and dark. But somehow, still alive._

_Watching, hiding in the shadows, watching._

_Where was he going? Had he forgotten about the remainder of the mess he left behind? The last it remembered was being cleaved by a sword bigger than its user._

_It shuddered. If the man managed to beat it at its regular state, there was no way it would provoke another fight now. But it was still alive, alive, alive…_

_It followed him. It saw him stop at a glass box. He stepped inside. He laughed at someone. He stepped out._

_The man was covered in lacerations, proof of the weeks-long battle he finally had finished. He defeated many more than just this one, but he was sloppy. It was alive, after all._

_It followed him. It saw him slump into an alley, sitting motionless as he waited for his demonic blood to heal his wounds._

_It followed him. It saw him finally reach what it could only assume was his home. It saw something, someone else greet him at the door._

_The man’s whole demeanor changed. And, from the look of things, so did the woman at the door’s. She smiled up at him, only at him, and she didn’t notice it watching in the shadows._

_She was only human. She was only human, and the man trusted her._

_It watched in the shadows._


	2. Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to balance the line between dark and fluff, but i couldn't help myself this chapter lmao
> 
> so, i originally had a dante between dmc1 and 4 in mind for this. but also? i love me a good dilf. if y'all would rather him be 5 dante that's fine too. it doesn't quite matter now but it _will_ in the smutty chapters, soo. text in your votes now

Christ almighty, you had a nasty headache. You rub your forehead, and your eyes finally begin to adjust to the light of your room. Just how long had you slept? Arching your back, you let out a low groan as you finally stretch your tired muscles. Sluggishly, you reach over to the clock on the nightstand. It couldn’t have been too late, just—

_Two in the goddamn afternoon?_

Dropping the clock on your bed, you peel off the covers and roll, begrudgingly, out of bed. Shit, when’s the last time you slept in that late? And you hadn’t even particularly felt too tired the night before, not until Dante came home. Well, you had to start your day sometime, late or not.

Running your fingers through your bedhead, you sigh as you walk to the hallway. As you rub your eyes, walking to the bathroom, you bump face first into something solid. 

“Hm, sorry…” you mumble. Until, of course, you realize you’re eye level with Dante’s bare pecs. “Oh,” you say dully, then your vision flicks down. He’s only wearing a towel. “ _Oh_.”

Turning away, you cover your blushing face with one hand.

“Late morning for you too, huh?” Dante asks. His words are innocent, but his tone is anything but. “Too bad. If you woke up a few minutes earlier, we could’ve saved some water.”

As your cheeks flushed darker, his grin grew wider. As much as he loved the banter between you two, he cherished the few moments when you were truly and utterly embarrassed.

“ _Thank you_ , Dante,” you pointedly say before squeezing past him to the bathroom door. You can hear him chuckle as he watches you leave, and you decide then and there that your shower will be a cold one.

* * *

It didn’t take you too long to get yourself cleaned up, though you still couldn’t shake a lingering exhaustion. The only thing on your mind as you walked down the stairs was the glorious cup of coffee you were going to make yourself.

As you made your way to your desk, you notice that Dante was already sitting there, phone to his ear.

“What do you mean, ‘not thorough enough’?” he asks, clearly annoyed. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you also didn’t want to let your presence known quite yet. Movingly quietly to the kitchen, you began to fashion yourself a cup as silently as you could.

“When has that ever happened?” you hear his exasperated voice exclaim from the other room. He pauses, then you can nearly hear his rolling eyes as he says, “They’re all dead, aren’t they? What else does this client want me to do, take them to dinner?”

Silence. Someone’s talking on the other end.

“Fine. Fine, just keep me in the know,” Dante sighs, then plops the phone back in its holder. Leaning back in your chair, he runs a hand down his face. “You can come out now, sweetheart.”

You curse under your breath, of course he would know that you were listening. Walking back into his line of sight, you cut to the chase. “Who was that?”

“Morrison. As if that last job wasn’t long enough, it’s apparently not over. Client’s saying that the demon I was after is too crafty to be dead already.” Dante rubs his chin, sniffing indignantly. “Looked dead enough to me.”

You hum in acknowledgement into your coffee. If Dante said it was dead, then that was that. “Don’t pout, it’ll be easy. Just means you won’t need to do much, other than spend some more time away from me. But I know how hard that is for you.”

Turning to face you, he shoots you a wry smile. For a second, you think his expression is saying, _more than you know_. His eyes move down to the mug in your hands, and his brow raises. “Still not awake yet? That’s pretty late, even for me.”

“Just one of those days, I guess,” you half-heartedly shrug. Walking up to the desk, you set your mug down and put a hand on his shoulder. His gaze raises up to you, and he looks comfortable. You didn’t like hearing him so annoyed. After his time away, he deserved a bit of a break. “Want me to make those cookies you love?”

It’s like a kid in a candy store. “The strawberry ones?” he asks, his voice _giddy_.

A small chuckle escapes you as you squeeze his shoulder before grabbing your coffee again. “Yes, the strawberry ones. Thought you might want a treat after being gone for so long.”

If he had a tail, it’d be wagging a mile a minute. After you turn to go back to the kitchen, he follows you. Pivoting, you lean your weight onto one leg as you hold out a hand to stop him.

“Dante,” you chide, poking his chest lightly, “You know this isn’t going to be instant, right? They take a little bit more time and precision than microwavable pizza bites.”

“What, a fella can’t help his friend out?”

At first, you’re almost flattered. Then you purse your lips. “You just want to know the recipe, don’t you?”

“You have no idea how bad I want to know how to make these.”

That earns him a laugh, and you pretend to huff angrily as you begin fishing around in one of the cabinets. Dante watches you curiously, trying and failing to see what you’re grabbing. Until you throw your find at his face, blocking his vision completely.

“Hey!” he cries, voice muffled behind the fabric. Taking the cloth off his face, he lets it unfurl, and he blinks slowly as he sees what it is. An apron. Since when did he even own an apron?

“Go on,” you say, crossing your arms. The smile on your lips makes Dante wonder who’s really the devil here. “Put it on. I don’t want you making a mess.”

Despite his grumbling, he listens, wrapping the tie around himself to cinch it at the waist. If you look closely, you think you even see a blush on his cheeks.

The recipe itself isn’t too complex, and the two of you make quick work of the dough. You only need to scold Dante for eating it raw twice, which is something you feel you should be proud of.

After you put the batches in the oven, you start to teach him how to make the most important part, the frosting. He puts in the proper amount of sugar, milk, and mashed strawberries, but that’s about as far as his successes go. He’s an absolute animal with the whisk, his harsh movements causing excess to spill from the top of the bowl.

“H-Hey!” you laugh, placing you hand on his arm to get him to stop. The look he gives you is a little dejected, and you almost feel bad. “Let me help.”

Standing next to him, you reach over and place both your hands on his. The comparison is laughable, his easily dwarfing your own. But the fit is comfortable, and his skin is warm to the touch. It distracts you, and you take a second longer than you should to teach him how to properly whisk. It seems it’s your turn to blush, and you’re suddenly thankful that he’s focused on the bowl and not your reddened cheeks.

“You just need to learn to slow down,” you murmur, showing him the proper pace, “Too fast and you’ll end up painting the walls with it.” He doesn’t say anything back, just letting you move his hands however you want to. By the time you’re done, you’re left with a satisfyingly pink, fluffy frosting.

“See?” you say, scooping up a small portion with your finger. Moving it to your mouth, you don’t notice as Dante’s eyes are trained to the motion. It tastes delicious, and you can’t help the small sound you make as the sweet mixture touches your tongue. Curiously, you send up a glance at Dante. He’s hasn’t said anything in the last few minutes, and his silence is certainly an odd occurrence. You can’t tell if he’s still thinking of the phone call from earlier, or if he’s distracted from something else.

Suddenly, you remember your proximity to the man in front of you. You hadn’t backed away after helping him with the frosting, and you find yourself a breath’s width away from him. Heat radiates from his body in waves, and you try not to let yourself get too lulled in the aura. The feeling of a gloved hand on your cheek snaps you out of your train of thought.

Dante stares down at you, looking intently at the corner of your mouth. You look back, wide eyed, completely unsure of what was about to happen. Slowly, he raises his thumb to your bottom lip. He swipes over the soft, sensitive skin with his calloused finger, and you’re lucky you don’t whimper at the sensation. Your lips part, and he makes a small, quick intake of breath. When he finally reaches the corner of your mouth, he lowly murmurs, “Had some frosting on you.”

Despite cleaning the mess, he hasn’t taken his hand off your cheek. You know you’re blushing, you can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks, and you know that he can, too. The two of you seem to be rooted to the spot, neither able to move. Gradually, as if pulled by another force, you seemed to be leaning closer, and closer—

_Ring! Ring! Ring!_

As soon as you hear the telephone, you both jump apart. Dante snatches his hand from your cheek as if he’s been burnt, and you realize that no matter how hard you try, you just can’t look in his direction. You hear his heavy steps (and breathless swears) as he walks to your desk, but you can’t bring yourself to pay attention. All you can do is raise your fingers to your lips, tracing the path that his thumb had just followed.

“ _What?_ ” he angrily snaps into the receiver. You inch to the edge of the kitchen, peering over to look at him. He’s leaning over the desk, free hand gripping the side. His hair falls wildly over his eyes, his knuckles white, and… still wearing that apron you had him put on.

He just looks so cute, you couldn’t stop the small laugh that arose in you. Your mind briefly conjured images of him fighting demons while wearing it, and you raised your hand to cover your mouth. Thankfully that broke the taught tension that you’d felt in the kitchen. No, you were back to normal, laughing with (and maybe at) your silly, loyal friend. Unfortunately, said friend was currently having a much worse time than you. Dante sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Tomorrow, really?” Another pause. “Whatever you say.” Another. “Yeah. I’ll be ready by then.”

Rather abruptly, he slams the phone back into its holder. You jump slightly, and conveniently hear a ‘ding’ from the kitchen. Leaving Dante to himself, you take the cookies out of the oven.

He has the apron in his hands when he returns, and you’re rather thankful for that. You can take him at least a little more seriously now.

“Sorry, babe. Looks like you’re gonna have to wrap these all up for me.”

“Hm?” you ask innocently, not looking up from piping the frosting on to the cookies. “No, I don’t think so. They’ll stay here… incentive to come back in one piece.”

Dante groans. “You’re so mean, you know that?”

Sending a glance over your shoulder, your lips form a coy smile. 

“Only to you, Dante.”

Neither of you talk about what happened moments ago.

* * *

At first, you can’t tell that you’re dreaming.

It’s pitch black, and you can’t see an inch in front of your own face. You think you simply got up in the middle of the night. It would make sense, you were worried about Dante’s departure in the morning. But you were rendered motionless. There was nothing you could do to get your limbs to respond, not even a twitch of your fingers.

You try to scream. Nothing comes out; you can’t even get your mouth to open.

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see a figure move in your periphery. Though you can’t turn your head, your eyes thankfully can move, but it’s hard to make out anything in the inky blackness.

The shape moves, and you would gasp if you could. You can tell that it’s getting closer, but it’s still impossible to put any features at all onto it. It steps closer, closer… until it squats, looking down at your lying form.

The figure tilts its head. You can’t move. You want to move, _god_ you wish you could move. It tilts its head to the other side, and you suddenly feel a piercing pain in your head, similar to the headache you nursed in the morning. It feels as if something is sifting through your thoughts, and there’s not a thing you can do to stop it. All of the sudden, you hear a voice.

_What do you want?_

You can’t pinpoint where the voice comes from. It doesn’t start at the figure. You can’t even tell if it has a mouth. It’s somehow inside your head… and also, all around you. The horror of your situation gets to you, and your efforts to move double. You focus all your might on thrashing, on standing up, on doing anything.

As you finally sit up, gasping for air, you realize that you are no longer in that pitch black space. You are alone in your bed, moonlight trickling in from the window. Your hands run over the covers, and you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself. It’s okay, you’re in the shop. Dante is just a few doors down from you. It was just a dream.

* * *

_It likes that you’re scared._

_It feels as though it’s starting to finally get to know you. And it wants more._


	3. A Name to the Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo, dmc5 dante won by an overwhelming amount lol. but dmc4 dante lovers, fret not! i've got lots of time, and lots of thirst for this dumbass
> 
> i hope you guys like plot. also i hope you don't mind reader is like, a character, and not a blank slate. couldn't help myself ;p

When you next woke, one thing was abundantly clear: you felt like complete and utter shit. True, you didn’t sleep in until the afternoon like you did the day before. But, you remembered your nightmare as clear as day, and the headache in it was no figment of your imagination. As soon as you made your way downstairs, you downed some painkillers that Dante kept around. If they worked for a half devil, they’d sure as hell work for you. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you poked aimlessly at your eggs.

Still, your headache was not the only reason you were distracted. Without meaning to, your thoughts always seemed to trail back to that moment you shared with Dante the day before. Sure, the two of you have cuddled on more than one occasion, falling asleep in each other’s arms after a long night of drunkenly watching television. But nothing so concretely romantic. You really felt as if he was going to kiss you, and with the look he was giving you, probably more than that.

Oh. Here you are, thinking about it again.

A tired groan leaves you as you run a hand down your face. This was stupid. Dante would laugh at you if he knew you were losing your appetite due to fretting over this. The train of thought captured your full attention, and it would have continued if not for the sound of the front door opening.

“Say, is my girlfriend here?”

Your face flushes. Ah, Trish came to visit.

“No, she’s not,” you say, the lilt of a joke on your lips. She played this game with you often, and while it flustered you so, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop her. After depositing your forgotten food to the trash, you sat back at your desk. It wasn’t that you disliked Trish, no, quite the opposite. It was just that her and Lady both love to tease you, and you, sadly, were easy to tease.

“Hmm, there she is,” Trish all but purrs as she walks around your desk. Wrapping her arms from behind you, she places her chin on top of your head. “Dante can’t keep you cooped up all to himself forever, you know.”

“H-He isn’t forcing me to stay here, Trish,” you reply, mentally scolding yourself for stammering. If your cheeks weren’t red enough, she squeezes you in her hug, her breasts flush against the back of your head. “I work here.”

“You sure? Last I checked, Dante doesn’t pay you. Don’t you ever think about coming to work for Lady and I? I’m sure we could treat you better than the old man.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her words, though your laugh sounds more like a nervous giggle. At the sound, you want to stuff your face in your hands. It just wasn’t fair. All the ladies you knew, Trish, Nico, Lady… they were all so _sexy_. Maybe you’d ask them sometime for tips, you felt as though you had the sex appeal of a wet towel. But in the meantime, you’d stay the object of their teasing with your cherry red face.

Nerves kept you from hearing descending steps across the shop. “I-I mean, I do _like_ working here.”

“Loyal, too?” Trish says, and you feel her turn to face the stairwell. “Dante, I’m jealous.”

“Trish, are you manhandling my employee again?”

“Just spending some quality time with my favorite secretary.”

“ _Receptionist_ ,” you correct, still very aware of how close Trish’s body was to yours.

“Oh, that’s right. Secretaries actually sleep with their employers, don’t they?”

If you had a drink, you’d choke on it.

“ _Hah hah hah_ ,” Dante replies humorlessly.

“I, uh,” you say, finally raising to a stand. “I need to get something upstairs.” A blatant lie, but Trish didn’t seem to mind. She lets you out of her grasp, and doesn’t suppress her satisfied smirk as she watches you scurry to the stairs. A little laugh leaves her as the two lose sight of your retreating form.

“You just love getting her riled up, don’t you?” you hear Dante say, but you can’t quite pinpoint the emotion in his voice. Curiosity got the better of you. Standing halfway up the stairs, you strain your ears to hear the conversation.

“What can I say? Those reactions are too cute, I can’t help it.” Even while in another room, Trish manages to make you blush. “If you aren’t careful, Dante, I might just steal her away from you.”

“What, you think I’d let my girl dance with a devil, just like that?”

“You wouldn’t? Then you may want to look in a mirror.” Trish’s laugh always goes straight to your gut. “And she’s _yours_ , is she? That’s news to me.”

Well, that was as much as that as you could take. Finishing your walk up the stairs, you decided to indulge in some well deserved solitude.

* * *

Just your goddamn luck. The last you remembered, you were reading while lounging on your bed, waiting for Dante to leave for his current job. Now, you found yourself back in that suffocating black. Had you fallen asleep again? It was still fairly early, and you weren't planning on taking a nap. Perhaps those painkillers hit you stronger than you thought.

Remembering your predicament from last time, you immediately try to move your limbs to no avail. Huffing out a breath, you decide to try and stay as calm as you possibly can. Opening your eyes, you take note of your surroundings. Despite the curtaining dark, you can almost sense that the figure is not in your presence. If they could move, your eyebrows would furrow. If it was not here, then why were _you_?

Before you could attempt to ponder your situation, your thoughts came to a screeching halt. You felt something. Tiny tendrils wrap curiously around your calves, and you try to wriggle.

_I see you._

Even if you wanted to, you can’t breathe. 

_Do you see me?_

You don’t. The voice piercing through your head again, and this time, you try on focus on its qualities. It’s hard to grasp, but it sounds somewhat male. Breathy. Ethereal.

The tendrils on your legs coil higher, now tickling your clothed thighs. You try to yelp, you try not to let panic take over. Focus. _Focus_. This was a dream, this entity wasn’t real. It was just a figment of your imagination, and it was _not_ going to hurt you.

A grip on your shoulder rips you out of the dark.

* * *

“Babe. _Babe_.”

You jolt, gripping the sheets beneath you. Air can’t get into your lungs fast enough. Looking around, you blink a few times before you realize it’s Dante that woke you up.

“I had no idea you were such a heavy sleeper. Good to know,” he notes, but there’s some seriousness to his teasing words. He looks over you, his gaze scrutinizing. “You okay?”

Part of you wants to tell him about your past few dreams. When you think about what you’d tell him, you can’t make out the details. They’re lifelike in the moment, but when you wake, they’re really all just blurs. And you didn’t want to upset him further, not with his last job turning sour. Whatever you were developing, it could wait until later. It wasn’t as if your life was in danger from a few bad dreams.

“Yeah,” you fib, shaking your head for good measure. “Just didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep in the first place. You startled me, is all.”

He grunts noncommittally, and you can tell he doesn’t quite buy it. But he doesn’t push you. “I just wanted to let you know that Trish and I are leaving.”

“Morrison didn’t trust you enough to get your ass in gear?”

“Guess not,” he smiles wryly. “I’m trusting you to hold down the fort, you hear? No crazy parties.”

“Dante, you have to realize how absolutely ridiculous it is for _you_ of all people to say that.”

Running a hand through his greying hair, he lets out a laugh. “Live as I say, not as I do,” he replies, and sends you a dashing smile. Your heart flutters at the sight, and you’re thankful you can manage to keep eye contact. He clears his throat, as if he just remembered something. Patting around his coat pocket, he pulls out a slip of paper.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to you between two fingers, “Phone number for the place I’m staying. If anything happens, give me a call.” He waits a moment, eyes flicking to your hand and then back to you. “I always have time for you.”

You don’t know how the hell he can say things like that with a straight face.

“Yeah, well…” you say quietly, reaching to take the number. As you did, your fingers grazed together, and it took all your might not to suck in a breath. God. You really needed to work on keeping your emotions in check. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll come back, right?”

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll be back before you miss me.”

“I said get back _soon_ , Dante.”

“The madam wounds me!”

Rolling over, you give him a weak slap on the shoulder. “Go, Dante. Before Morrison docks your pay.”

He grumbles, but holds his hands up in mock defeat. You smile up at him, and you thought that was going to be that. But he leans forwards, cradling you in a hug. Blinking a few times, you stiffen for a just a moment before you melt into his touch, wrapping your arms around his warm form. Almost awkwardly, he broke away from you, then made his way to the door. Was Dante, _the_ Dante, bashful? The thought made you smile, and after you said your goodbyes you laid your head on the pillow.

You had fallen so damn hard.

* * *

“So, when are you going to tell her?”

“I can’t say I know what you’re talking about, Trish.”

“...You really are as stupid as you are ugly.”

* * *

_It was furious at the earlier intrusion. No, not it, he. As he regained his strength, he was remembering more and more about himself. He knew that he watched. He knew that he wanted. He knew he was **hungry**. Still, he wasn’t sure of his identity. That was natural, considering the demon hunter rendered him within an inch of his life. Even so, he was getting bits and pieces, when he tried hard to think of himself at his full power. Somehow, the name Asmodeus seemed significant to him._

_Asmodeus, then. Asmodeus knew a few things. He knew that you were a rather pleasant host. Your mostly sedentary lifestyle gave him ample time to feed off you. Not to mention all the unspoken desire you had for that detestable man. Your longing was delicious to him, sweeter than any wine. If it wasn’t for said desire, he certainly would not have regained so much of himself so fast. You let it fester within you, twisting through every vein, overgrown from maltreatment._

_Still, he knew he wasn’t strong enough yet to face that man. 'That man' being the one you so coveted. What did you call him as you tried to shout in your dreams? Oh, yes, Dante. Well, he had a little longer to go before he could face Dante once more. Asmodeus had to pat himself on the back with his choice. With you under his thrall, he would have an easy time surprising the demon hunter. He trusted you, after all. Yes, he had ample time to finalize his plans. He wasn't planning on sapping all your energy; not yet. Killing you now would be a waste of time. And he had all the time in the world._

_But with how sweet of a host you were being, perhaps it wouldn’t take long at all._

_Asmodeus noted as Dante and the other woman left the shop, leaving you all alone. No, not alone. You were there with him._

_And he with you._


	4. Sleepless Slumber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe this hit 8k words! easily the longest fic i've posted. i hope y'all are enjoying... it's starting to get juicy

It’s not so bad, having the shop all to yourself. There’s a market decrease on discarded pizza boxes, that’s for sure. The heavy quiet is a bit disheartening, but it’s nothing that you’re not used to. You lived alone far longer than you’ve lived with Dante. Even after telling yourself this, you knew not having the man around was making you uncomfortable.

For some reason, you just feel _paranoid_.

The first night on your own isn’t much of a hassle. In fact, you don’t even have one of those dreams, even if you sleep in later than you would have liked. That raised your spirits; perhaps it had simply been a weird trend, and you’d finally rid yourself of it. You felt good.

Which is why you feel so damn frustrated with yourself that you can’t focus on your work. With Dante not around, it was the perfect opportunity to finally get some much needed paperwork done. You truly have no idea how the two of you still have electricity— and how the hell did Devil Hunters file their taxes? Many questions and more were begging to be answered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus. No matter how hard you tried, you gaze kept flicking back to the front door.

Biting your bottom lip, you chew the soft skin for a moment. You _knew_ that there wasn’t an intruder, but the hair on the back of your neck still stood on end. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you knew your stubborn nature wouldn’t allow you to rest unless you checked. Standing up with an annoyed sigh, you stack your paperwork into a neat pile. If it wasn’t getting done, it wasn’t getting done, no need to annoy yourself the whole rest of the night. Crossing your arms, you chew the inside of your cheek as you focus again on the door. You knew it was locked, you knew it, and yet…

Your legs moved as if on their own as you walked over. Each step feels slower than the last, for as you walked, you felt a peculiar sensation. Though you couldn’t tell from where, or by whom, you knew in your gut that you were being watched. 

Shaking your head, you tried to dispel your wandering thoughts. It was no use getting yourself worked up, but it couldn’t hurt to check outside, just in case. The cold metal of the doorknob serenaded your skin, and you still couldn’t shake the bad feeling. Opening the door slowly, you peek your head outside. An errant breeze runs by you, a shiver shooting down your spine.

The only thing meeting your curious gaze is the shining of the moon. You let out a small, relieved sigh. Dante is sure gonna laugh when he hears just how paranoid you get without him. Closing the door, you promptly lock it, then jiggle the handle to make sure you did. And, just for good measure, unlock and lock it again.

_You should sleep, pet._

What? Since when were you so tired all of the sudden? Holding up your fist, you barely catch yourself on the door as your legs become mush. All at once, you are so exhausted you can hardly hold up your own weight.

The room spins, and the vertigo nearly makes you nauseous. Looking around, your vision glances to the stairwell. As much as you want to get in bed, you know full well if you try to climb them like this you’ll simply fall. Stumbling over to the old, raggedy couch, the cushions groan in protest at your body falling upon them.

The logic left in your brain is telling you not to sleep, that something bad will happen if you do, but you’re far too gone by now. The prospect just sounds so nice, and you’re so very tired… The dreams you’ve had the last few nights are the last thing on your mind as you drift into comfortable unconsciousness.

* * *

You’re back in that damnable place again. It’s different, however. For once, you aren’t stuck on your back motionless. No, this time, you are standing. It feels foreign to have full command of your limbs, but miraculously, you do. Unfortunately it’s not perfect, for you feel as though you’re moving underwater. Your actions are delayed, sluggish. If it wasn’t such a frightening situation, you’d be content spending your time examining your body’s lack of response.

Until you hear the sound of footsteps behind you.

Immediately you try to whip around, though your body takes a few seconds to properly react to your commands. Something… red begins to enter your vision. It can’t be the figure you saw the last few times, for that creature had no distinct features whatsoever. No, this thing walking towards you seemed to be somewhat man-shaped. And it seemed to look a lot like— 

“Dante?” you croak, your voice barely functional. Fuck, it really is him. You try to step towards him, but your legs disagree with you, and you trip forwards. As if you weigh nothing he catches you, and you didn’t expect anything less.

“You okay, babe?” he asks, and you can feel the rumble of his chest against your cheek. You know that you should be embarrassed, you know it… and yet, you can’t find the energy. His body simply feels so wonderful against yours, and you’ve wanted this for so, so long.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you don’t answer him. In fact, he simply raises his fingers to your chin, guiding you to look up at him. Never in your life have thought of Dante as glamorous, but the way he’s looking at you is utterly _dazzling_.

“D-Dante…” you whisper, and you decide then and there that you rather like the way his name tastes on your lips.

The smirk on his face is downright sinful, and he emits a laugh that you’ve never heard from him before. No, wait… the part of your mind that’s still screeching for clarity reminds you that you _haven’t_ heard that from him before. But, before you can question, he leans forward, capturing your lips with his own.

A thousand harps sound in your heart as you try not to melt in his embrace, your face tilting to better mesh with the man before you. Your breath mingles with his, and he moves his hands to better cradle your leaden body.

It’s impossible to ignore the way your body presses flush against his. He is unmoving, solid, and everything you need. Somewhere in the back of your mind you can make out the movement of his hands, one landing on your shoulders, the other on the small of your back. But you’re more focused on when he holds you closer, and how your bodies fit together like matching puzzle pieces.

Something is wrong. 

Suddenly, the way he kisses you isn’t divine, it’s hellish. His lips press upon yours in a way oppressive, as if he’s searching for something, searching for _you_. You whimper and press against him, attempting to push away. But his strong hands, the ones you were just admiring, hold you steadfast against his form. _This is not Dante_ , you remind yourself, adding another wave of energy to your struggle. It’s hard, nearly impossible with your body’s lack of response, but the thing is getting frustrated with you. He grips you tighter, and you feel as though if he does any further you’ll pop beneath him.

Managing to raise your fist, you bring it down _hard_ upon the false Dante’s head. He rears back with a snarl, and you finally find it within yourself to scream.

* * *

Your scream carries over from the dream world to the waking, and you sit up quickly as you try to catch your breath. The tears falling down your cheeks are beyond your control, and you wrap your torso in a tight hug. You’re about to fall into a panic until you remember the number Dante gave you before he left. If anyone would know what to do, it’d be him, right?

Stumbling over to the phone on your desk, you somehow manage to pull the slip of paper out of your pocket. With fumbling fingers you punch in the unknown number, and it rings once, twice, three times. For a terrifying moment you think he isn’t going to pick up. Why would he? As you look over to the clock, you see that it’s now three in the morning. The idea of him not picking up makes you choke back a sob, and you nearly lose yourself before you hear the ringing come to a stop. You hold your breath.

“Hello?” you hear, the familiar groggy voice filling you with a much needed comfort. You can hear Dante run a hand down his face, even him scratching his stubble. It seems as if you’ve woken him up, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you try to control your breathing.

Biting your lip, you try not to cry openly into the phone. “D-Dante,” you begin, and promptly fail in your goal. A clipped sob escapes your lips, and a fresh wave of tears falls down your cheeks.

“Hey,” he says, his voice now sharp and clear from any sleep. “Hey, hey now, babe, don’t cry…”

You can’t help it. For once, you don’t listen to him. He doesn’t seem to mind, and instead focuses on shushing gently into the phone. Finally, your breathing begins to level. Faintly, you can hear the rustling of sheets as Dante shifts to a sit.

“...Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, slowly. There is a hesitance in his voice that forms an ache in your heart. You think for a moment. Do you want to talk about it? A few seconds ago you did, you really did. But now, you think about what exactly you’d tell him. ‘ _Sorry Dante, I had a sex dream about you that went south. Oops!_ ’

Your cheeks flare red with shame, and you wipe the last of your tears away with the back of your hand. Somehow, he’s been silent the whole time.

“...No,” you finally reply, your voice shaking and weak. Clearing your throat, you try again, talking clearly this time. “No, I— I’m sorry for waking you up, Dante.”

All you can hear for a moment is the static of silence on a phone call. Both of you wish to speak, you can nearly taste the unspoken words on your lips. You stay like that for some time, cradling the landline in your hands as you press it to your ear. If you close your eyes, you can pretend if you’re there with him.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs, breaking the silence. “I always have time for you.”

You can’t help but smile at those words, the same he used before. Finally feeling a bit of normalcy, you run a hand through your hair and let out a huff of a laugh. “Always? Aren’t you going to get tired of waiting on my beck and call?”

“Look,” he says, his chuckle grounding you, “If I have to bend a few rules to keep my employee of the month around, I will. Simple as that.”

_I love you._

The response is held on the edge of your tongue. But you don’t let it out, as much as it buzzes, begging for freedom. You swallow the words, and smile against the receiver. The words you say instead are adequate, but not what you’re thinking.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. I promise, sweetheart.”

The shaking of your hands make it nearly impossible to get the phone into its dock. Resting your head in your heads, you sit motionless for what must be half an hour. A look to the clock tells you that it’s still only half past three in the morning.

A perfect time for a cup of coffee. Sleep be _damned_.

* * *

_That was bold of him, going as far as he did. But you were all alone, Asmodeus simply couldn’t resist. You responded with a fervor more than his highest expectations, and it took all his willpower not to consume your essence then and there._

_Yes, you did manage to shrug him off. But not before he fed to his full, your desire going straight to his head. As he toyed with you, memories began pouring back. Of him, millennia old, visiting maidens in the dead of night. Oh, how he enjoyed the way their families found them in the morning; dead._

_Or, for the special ones, thralls._

_Yes… that is the fate that he is thinking for you. Your beautiful lips begging for him, eyes glassy with desire. That is the future he foresaw for you, his fetching pet. After all, the time for when the two of you will meet face to face is nigh. You hadn’t even asked the demon hunter for help, though you had the chance. Your embarrassment was almost as delicious to him as your lust— almost. Once again, he retreated to the shadows, content on watching you until the next time to strike._

_It is all he can do to wait for the moment with bated breath._


	5. Infernal Investigation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot plot plot

The human body really doesn’t need that much sleep, you figure out. Every time you felt even an inkling of exhaustion, you poured yourself another cup of coffee. And when _that_ stopped working, you stocked up on 5 Hour Energies. And when that didn’t work— well, by then, you’d pass out into a dreamless sleep. It worked well enough for you.

Of course, your body was hating you for your practices. The dark circles under your eyes only managed to get darker, and you began to notice a steady shake in your hands when you tried to do paperwork. Despite the distraction, it was a price you were willing to pay in order to keep yourself focused on anything that _wasn’t_ the horrible sense of paranoia you felt.

In fact, paranoia seemed to be the only thing you were feeling as a late. You thought that living alone would give you a welcome break from your roommate, but lately, you felt as though you kept seeing him in the corner of your eye. It couldn’t have been true, you knew full well that Dante was off on his job. Trish and Morrison could confirm that. Yet, sometimes, you thought you could see him looking at you. Time and time again, when you sluggishly moved your gaze to look, you were met with what you expected: Nothing. In any other circumstance, the idea of Dante looking out for you would have put you at ease. But...

The lack of control you had on your life wreaking havoc on your mental well being. Every so often, you thought of calling Dante again. You truly had no idea what was wrong with you, but there was a chance that he might. After all, if this wasn’t just you, and if this was because of a demon— 

Shaking your head, you ran a hand down your face. You were being stupid. Dante was out there _killing_ demons for a living, why in the world would there be one right in his own shop? The dreams started when he came home, anyways. If he hadn’t sensed anything, then there was nothing to worry about. Plus, if it still bothered you, you could always bring it up when he finally returned.

The rational thoughts were enough to calm you down. And thankfully so, for you began to feel the burn of worried tears in your eyes. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. That you assumed you could blame on the near-gallons of coffee you must have consumed the last few days. Nothing like a diet solely of caffeine to quell your nerves. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you couldn’t help the bitter laugh that left your lips.

As you look down to the paperwork on the desk (even “Tony Redgrave” needed a credit score), you frown as you read the shakiness of your handwriting. You can barely recognize it, though you can’t tell if that’s from the sloppiness of the print or your shoddy vision. This wasn’t a healthy way to live, and sooner or later you were going to crash. But the alternative was not something you were willing to deal with.

As soon as you thought it, you realized that didn’t make any damn sense. What even was this ‘alternative’ you were thinking of? A few bad dreams? The horror of dreaming about fucking your hot friend? How terrible. Rubbing your tired eyes didn’t help as much as you wanted it to, so you left the seat at your desk and decided to dedicate the next few hours browsing your phone for all the articles of sleep paralysis that you could find.

* * *

This was a waste of his time. He knew it, you knew it, hell, even Trish would probably admit it at this point. For the last few days, Dante and Trish had been retracing his steps through his last job. It wasn’t the weirdest job he’d had. In fact, all things considered, it was pretty straight forward. As straightforward as his line of work could be.

They were currently en route to the spot where he downed the thing, and as they moved he tried to think about how this whole thing started.

The client on the phone sure sounded sincere when she called. She didn’t have the password, sure, but the poor woman sounded distraught. And her story intrigued him. Paranoia wasn’t too surprising to hear from his clients, but she sounded downright desperate.

“Look, lady,” he remembers saying, “What makes you so sure _I_ can help you? I provide a very unique service, you know. It ain’t always cheap.” That was a lie. He wasn’t gonna charge her.

“It’s the dreams,” he heard, the woman’s voice frenzied, yet exhausted. “I— I can’t sleep, the thing is in my dreams…”

It didn’t take much more to convince him to intervene. Nico said it was because he was a softie, but what kind of Devil Hunter would he be if he let a stray demon run around Redgrave? A broke one, that’s what. His word was his business, after all. No, he was a man of his word, and the thing didn’t sound too particularly strong anyways.

That’s what he thought when he started, at least. The demon was a slippery bastard, evading him more than a few times before he managed to corner it in an alley.

“Preying on some innocent girl?” he remembers asking, the devil sword Sparda across his shoulder, “What’s the problem, can’t get laid on your own?”

The demon growled at him, raising to its full height. It was easy on the eyes— as far as demons go. About eight feet tall, it stood a few heads higher than Dante. Asshole. Black, gnarled ram horns frame its grey face. It looked human enough, if not for the grey skin. And over-sized fangs. And leathery black wings.

“With a face like that, I get why you’re lonely,” Dante quipped.

“The mighty Asmodeus is not _lonely_ ,” the incubus snarled, finally finding its voice.

“You sure?” Dante asked, rolling his neck. “Well, even if you are, it won’t matter soon enough. I’m sending your ‘mighty’ ass straight back to hell.”

It put up a pretty good fight. The sound of steel on flesh was most of he remembered from the conflict— after a few hundred battles, they all started to blend together. What he remembered most about the battle was after he beat the thing to a bloody pulp, it began to screech at him in a frenzied language he couldn’t understand.

“Hey,” he tried to interrupt, twisting a finger in his ear in mock annoyance, “No need to be a sore loser. Just let me finish the job, will you?”

As he brought his greatsword down upon its beaten body, the demon let out one last word before falling to a pile of ash. Okay… weird. But, again, not the weirdest thing he’s seen. If anything, that only made things easier. Less clean up for him. After spreading it around with his boot, he turned to leave and collect his pay.

And he thought that would have been it. But, obviously, if that was the case, he and Trish wouldn’t be out here, retracing his damn steps. Said woman is currently tapping a finger to her chin, looking down the alleyway where the altercation happened.

“And your client— she hasn’t had any dreams since, right?”

“Nah. Morrison would’ve let me know if it was anything like that. She just seemed paranoid.”

“And that’s enough to haul our asses back out here?”

Dante barks out a laugh. “Guess so. Something about leaving loose ends is bad for business, seems like.”

“My wasted time is coming out of your pay, you know,” Trish teases, and Dante groans. Even if he was going to argue about the payment, she was right. It was wasted time. Both of them could sense a faint demonic presence, but that was normal. Residue was sometimes left for a week or two, nothing about this was putting him on edge. And yet…

His mind kept trailing off to you, back at the shop, alone. The last he talked to you, you seemed really distracted. He’d known you to be a bit of a worrier, but you must have been taking on even more work, because you seemed downright exhausted.

The night he came back, you fell asleep before he even finished his pizza. Then, you slept in until well into the afternoon, something you didn’t normally do. While he wasn’t the most observant, he’d lived with you long enough to know something was up. Looking over, he could tell that Trish was talking, but he couldn’t bring himself to listen. Instead, he was thinking about how upset you sounded when you called him a few nights ago.

Should he have pressed further? The last thing he wanted to do was to upset you, and you said that you didn’t want to talk about it. But if something was bothering you that much…

Letting out an annoyed breath, he walked back to where the pile of ash was and squatted in front of it. Just his luck, some still remained, though wind had dispersed the rest of it. Reaching out, he touched the ash with two fingers, raising it up to his face to inspect further.

“You’re not gonna lick that, are you?”

He did.

“ _Ugh._ ”

It tasted… gross. That much he expected. But what he didn’t expect was for it to not taste, well, dead. Closing his eyes, he began to ask himself a few questions.

 _Okay,_ he thought, _so let’s say the thing isn’t dead. Fine. Where the hell would it go?_

It wasn’t that much of a fighter, it seemed to prey on lonely targets. But there hadn’t been a string of disappearances lately, or any other suspicious behavior that would tip him off as to where it might be.

_Think about what you know about it. It’s a coward. It terrorized that poor girl’s dreams. It kept her up all—_

Oh. _Oh._

“I gotta bounce,” Dante says quickly, standing up and pushing past Trish.

“What?”

“Tell Morrison I’m fixing the problem.”

“Where? Don’t you think you’ll need h—“

“Look,” he interrupts, “just… do it. Can’t talk.” 

As he leaves a confused and angry Trish behind, he immediately begins berating himself. How could he have been so stupid?

After his altercation with the demon, he thought he’d killed it. But he was just being cocky, as always. The whole “falling into ash” thing was a cheap parlor trick, a trick he can’t believe he fell for.

 _Of course demons_ , especially old ones, had ways of avoiding death. Sure, it wasn’t common to play possum like that, but he should have guessed it. And instead?

_He lead it straight to you._

The Cavaliere can’t go fast enough. His stomach flipped as he sped up, cranking the gear on his motorcycle. How could he not see the signs? You weren’t battling stress, you were battling a fucking incubus.

For a moment, he felt his grip on the handles falter. Why hadn’t you opened up to him about this? Did you not trust him?

Shaking his head, Dante let out a small growl as he gripped the handles tighter. Those questions were for _after_ he kicked the ass of the thing that’s been making your life so difficult.

He remembered the sound of how you cried over the phone. He decided he was never going to hear it again.

* * *

_It’s been more than enough time, sweet. The way you’re going to smile up at me will be delectable._

* * *

“Recurrent isolated sleep paralysis is a parasomnia.”

Your eyes glaze over as you read the sentence ‘parasomnia’. Okay, try the next article.

“Sleep paralysis is a feeling of being conscious but unable to move.”

Hmm. That was… kind of your issue. But it wasn’t as if you couldn’t move when you woke up, you were stuck while _inside_ your dreams. Locking your phone, you let it fall on your chest as you stare up at the ceiling, feeling no better than when you started.

Lifting your hand, you stared at your fingers. Cursing your breath, you noticed their steady shake. Bad dreams or not, your body was simply begging you to take care of yourself again. Balling your hand into a fist, you let it drop to your side, sighing. You were content to lay there for hours if not for the sudden knock at your door.

Puzzled, you sit up. There weren’t any appointments scheduled for today, nor were you expecting a visitor of any other kind. That, and you look like absolute shit. You had half a mind to ignore it and pretend you weren’t home, but another round of knocks convinced you otherwise.

Grumbling under your breath, you brush down your pants as you raise to a stand. The walk to the front door was as familiar to you as the back of your hand, but your sluggish movements made it feel as if you were trying to run a marathon.

The metal of the knob left a chill on your fingers, and your eyebrows raise in surprise as you finally see who’s behind the door.

“Dante?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for how long this one took to write
> 
> i'm still not completely happy with it...


	6. Mirror Image

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KEPT YOU WAITING, HUH?
> 
> peep that rating change 👀  
> next chapter is gonna be the last one, babes. sorry to make you all wait so long! thank you for sticking with me! ♥
> 
> this isn't beta-read, or even proofread really, i just finally found insp for this fic again and had to get it OUT so apologies in advance heh

“Dante?”

Gosh, you really hoped that you didn’t sound quite as wrecked as you looked.

“In the flesh,” he replies, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Perhaps if you were fully awake, you would have been more reserved. But, at this point, you at your wits end. It was all you wanted to see a friendly face, and now, here he was.

With a step forward, you wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. His presence comforts you, you barely remember the weeks of stress as you feel his arms cradle you in return. Oh, the benefits of being friends with a beefy half-demon…

“Well, well,” he says, chuckling under his breath as he brings up a hand to pet the back of your head. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have thought twice about the casual intimacy. But there was just something about the tone of his voice during your last phone call, the same something in his eyes when he wiped the frosting from the corner of your lip. It was an emotion unnameable (actually, no, but you were too much of a coward to say the word), something that you never thought would apply to you.

But, really, here you were in his arms. And you found yourself thinking that there was no other place that you’d rather be.

“Are you still having trouble sleeping?” Dante asks, pulling you out of your reverie. He stepped back, but before you could whine your displeasure you felt the warmth of his hand on your cheek. Tilting your face side to side, he was examining you as if your problem was something he could physically see. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it, but you quickly sobered as you remembered the weight of your problem.

“To be honest, I am… I’ve been…” Your poor lip must be red from the torture you’re putting it through under your teeth. Now that he was done with his job, there was really no reason for you to keep beating around the bush. And you didn’t have to be quite so descriptive… “It’s really just dreams that have been bothering me. They’re so vivid, and, er-- unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant,” he repeats, cocking an eyebrow. “Now, I pride myself on my investigative skills, but I think I need a little more to go on than that, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks flush. More petnames. That doesn’t go by him either, and there’s now a smirk to match his raised brow. Damn him.

“It’s a bit hard to explain,” you admit, finally closing the door behind him and walking the two of you over to your trusty, raggedy couch. God, you needed to buy a new one. “It’s usually just something telling me that it wants to spend time with me. But it’s more possessive than that, and—”

Your words stop abruptly.

Dante’s eyebrows furrow as you cut yourself off. “And?”

“There was— I— well I had a dream about you, as well.” The speed in which you spilled the words from your lips was downright impressive. “We were getting, kind of, well, intimate before I realized that the thing wasn’t you. I mean, it looked like you, but it just wasn’t.”

The whole time you were recounting your dream, you were staring _very_ pointedly at an errant thread on the couch. When you finally turned your gaze to look at the man next to you, you saw an annoyingly large grin on his face.

“Had I known you were losing sleep at the thought of ravishing me, I would have let you do it a lot sooner!” he teases cheekily, and for a moment your eyebrow furrows. You knew Dante. You knew that he was a flirt and liked to flaunt his bravado whenever he could. But you also knew that he cared about you, and the concern absolutely dripped from his voice when you last heard him on the phone. Even if it was a little awkward, you hadn’t anticipated him teasing you when you admitted your nightmares.

And even more, you hadn’t anticipated the feeling of his actual hand on your hip.

All of a sudden, he was very, very close. He’d reached over your body and placed his hand on your hip; it was all you could do but blink as you felt the ghost of his stubble on your cheek. His lips were against your ear as he asked, “Is that what you want?”

“W-What?” is all you manage to croak out, and you feel very sluggish and stupid. It is what you want, isn’t it? As you sat on the couch, frozen, you wished desperately that you had the confidence of Trish, or Lady, or anyone else. But your brain just wasn’t working right, and it especially wasn’t helping that Dante’s breath was heating up the skin right behind your ear.

“Tell me that you want this.”

Oh, _fuck_.

“Yes, yes, of course I want this,” you whisper back, your voice a shade of husky that you don’t recognize. You can feel your tongue moving inside your mouth, as if you’re losing control of it. “I want you.”

Everything after your admission was an absolute whirlwind. Somehow you were already underneath him, your back against the leather of the couch. The speed in which he moved you caused you to gasp, but he wouldn’t even allow you that, capturing the sound in a heated kiss.

The feeling of his lips on yours was something that you had literally dreamt about, but to physically indulge in it was something else entirely. All your inhibitions fell away as he kissed you, and when you felt his excitement pres against your thigh you downright _groaned_.

His hands were everywhere at once, but nowhere where you actually wanted them. They teased your midriff, grabbed your shoulders, your biceps. But they simply brushed by everywhere you really wanted him to feel, and you squirm underneath him at the treatment. The whole interaction seemed… greedier than you were expecting. You knew that Dante was an experienced guy, but you had always thought he was the type to care about his partner’s pleasure above all else. Here, in this situation, you felt as if he was taking from you, and you were all too happy to give.

“Impatient, are we?” he purred against your lips, and you huff in response. Taking one of his hands in yours, you raise it to cup the curve of your waist. At the action, he lets out a low chuckle. Blushing, you initially wonder if you had done something wrong.

“Not quite,” is all he says before he raises his hand from where you put it to feel the swell of your breast instead. You inhale quickly, surprised at the action and thoroughly embarrassed. Before you can voice your encouragement, he takes the initiative to grind into you properly, showing you just how hard and ready he was. Before you hadn’t thought it possible for your face to flush further, but as electricity shot up your spine your cheeks colored a most unladylike color of wine red.

“D-Dante,” you gasp out, and he does the action again. Your hand shoots up to grip his ashen hair, and another moan rips from you as he bites at your neck. “Dante!”

“ _What?_ ” you heard him say. But you didn’t hear or feel it against your throat. No, the voice came from across the room. It came from a very confused and angry looking Dante.

But, wait, no, that couldn’t be. There was Dante right here, on top of you, and making you feel so many wonderful things… In fact, the fuzzy feeling was beginning to spread through your body from where he was kissing your neck. And it was so very nice, so very warm, so very comforting. So very inviting… and before you could remember where you were or what you were doing, you decided to take a little nap.

* * *

The entire motorcycle ride home, Dante couldn’t stop thinking about you. He felt like such an idiot for endangering you in the way he did. If anything had already happened to you while he was gone, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to forgive himself. He knew he’d have to fire you to keep you safe, and there was a curious flutter of pain in his chest at the notion of no longer living with you.

This line of thinking didn’t help anyone until he actually could see with his own two eyes if you were in any danger or not. As he neared Devil May Cry, he let out a breath of relief to see it wasn’t currently reduced to rubble, or on fire, or anything else equally awful.

After haphazardly parking the Cavaliere (which he was sure he’d get an earful from Nico about later), he placed his hand on the front door only to find it unlocked. Bad sign. Despite his initial haste, something caused him to hesitate before throwing open the door.

That was _your_ voice. But you weren’t just talking to anyone, no, you were moaning. Now, Dante was no stranger to sex, he knew the sound of desperation when he heard it. The flood of jealousy that rushed through him nearly caused him to keep the door shut, until he heard something that chilled him.

You were calling _his name._

The door couldn’t slam open fast enough, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to see. It wasn’t every day that he saw himself from a completely different angle. But it was clear as day, there he was, on top of you, doing everything that Dante had thought about doing to you.

Somehow, Dante found himself speechless. After the initial shock of seeing himself (and initial rush of blood to his crotch— you had no idea how delectable you sounded), he shook his head and found his voice again. Yes, it wasn’t lust pumping through his veins, it was rage.

“ _What?_ ” he asked, his voice absolutely dripping with malice for the thing atop you.

He saw your eyes widen and look in his direction, only for his mirror to bite you hard on the neck, far harder than what a normal love bite should be. After the puncture your eyes promptly rolled up, and your head fell back on the cushion below you.

Seeing your form lay limp and lifeless beneath the demon was Dante’s breaking point, and he snarled as he immediately activated his Devil Trigger, unable to stop himself. With a flap of his wings, he lunged at the devil atop you who still wore his face. He had often imagined throttling himself, but nothing this literal.

“Don’t touch her,” he growled, raising the false him into the air. It was bizarre to see himself laugh with such a cruel look on his features. He hoped that you never had to see him like that. This was different than when he looked at Vergil, he knew full well that the two were separate people. To see himself in such a state made him sick to his stomach.

“It’s a bit too late for that,” the thing laughed, gesturing to your sleeping form. True to his word, telltale purple marks dotted your neck and shoulders. Dante snarled again, flinging the incubus to a nearby wall. As the dust from the impact settled, Dante was relieved to see that it had shed the image of himself, Asmodeus revealing himself again at last.

He stood taller than he did their last battle, and somehow he just seemed altogether _more_. Dante felt another wave of guilt roll through him as he realized he had gained all this power from feeding off of you.

The incubus stood proudly, unfurling its leathery black wings out as it stood on cloven hooves. Unnaturally oil-black horns curled around his deceptively angelic face, though his grey skin kept him from being too inviting.

“You realize that you interrupted _just_ as it was getting fun, yes?” it asks with an over dramatic sigh, as if Dante had rudely interrupted an important dinner and not— well, whatever he had walked in on.

“Shut up.”

“What, no clever words? No biting comeback? My, you’ve changed since our last meeting, Dante.”

Dante had enough of these games. With another flap of his wings, he rushed forwards and summoned his devil sword, only to be met halfway with an advancement of the incubus’ own. Christ, you were going to be livid at the state of the shop when you woke up.

“Probably because I walked in on you feeling up my girl,” Dante gritted between his teeth, slashing at one of Asmodeus’ wings with his claws. “I’m not particularly fond of people who can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

“Then you must despise yourself,” the devil replied, just narrowly dodging Dante’s onslaught.

If only he knew.

* * *

The sound of claws clashing upon flesh greeted you as you awoke, albeit groggily. Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but something was telling you that you needed to keep them open. Something, something…

No, it wasn’t just something. Dante wanted you to keep them open. You weren’t sure why, or if he had told you that, but you knew it was important to him. You tried to lift your hand to rub your eyes, but you found that you couldn’t, just as it was in your dreams.

There was no way you could simply leave it at that. Though you could barely process what was going on, it sounded as if absolute havoc was being wrecked around you. The sounds motivated you; you had to focus on blinking your eyes open. Your mind just didn’t want to concentrate— but you were pushing through the fog, if you could just blink, blink, _blink_ — 

You were not expecting to see Dante in full Devil Trigger when you finally saw your surroundings. Seeing him back safe and sound made your heart swell, and you wanted to tell him just that, but— wait, hadn’t he come home before…?

Before you could even attempt to think about that, you finally noticed that he was fighting. As you looked upon the winged devil with whom he was sharing blows, you felt as though you had been hit by a semi-truck. A bruise on your neck throbbed, and all at once you realized that that was the thing terrorizing your dreams.

“D-D…”

The name died in your throat. It was almost as impossible to speak as it was to keep your eyes open. Shifting your weight just slightly on the couch, you tried again, straining your eyes to focus on the two devils locked in combat.

“Dante…”

Despite the measly whisper his name came out in, you could see Dante turn to face you. He looked absolutely demonic, vengeful, and beautiful. But, of course, he always looked beautiful. You could almost feel your face soften as you looked at him with admiration, your haze causing you to forget that he was in the middle of fighting for his life. For _your_ life.

“I love you.”

The words come out as naturally as breathing. You see his eyes widen, then you see his hand plunge right into the chest of the grey devil in front of him, then you see nothing at all.

Sleep had taken you once more, and it felt near blissful when you fell into the dreamless black.


End file.
